


Naked Kids

by Suchsmallhands



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Forgiveness, Healing, Hogwarts Era, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchsmallhands/pseuds/Suchsmallhands
Summary: Between sixth and seventh year, Sirius tries to fix his friendship with Remus.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54





	Naked Kids

**Author's Note:**

> I pretty much just had "Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America" by The 1975 on repeat while I did this. Anyways, here's two teenage boys trying to navigate forgiveness in my head.  
> @Neurtsy on ao3 is my cheerleader, you always give me a little motivation to try to get something done.  
> Title is for ["Naked Kids" by The Growlers. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgFNSQBGCAI)

_I picked myself up off the ground_

_I had an epiphany babe, a realization babe_

_I knew that I couldn't stay down_

_I had to find a way to be brave_

One of the pains of being an orphan is that finding belonging turns into an everyday task for the rest of your life. Instead of being at home, you’re on the road, trying to find a hotel or a friendly face when the night comes. When the child at thirty and forty hits a block, finds troubled waters and no bridge, there is no one to turn to where there can be no shame. No one to turn to who will receive you regardless if you’ve haven’t spoken in years or if you had a fight last night. And an orphan, of any kind on earth, will track the disappearing road of life looking for the rest stop, the light in the window. 

Sirius has never had to look far, James has always been right where he is. When he reaches out a hand in the pitch dark, he bumps into James, startles to find a friend so instantly. And he’s had a room at the Potter’s for a year now. The next one down the hall from James, messy like a teenage boy’s room may be, bright and warm. The summers become safe.

There on the floor Sirius sprawled now, flipping through an article on a Queen performance. He was twitchy, trying to read but mostly just looking at pictures. Which was fine, he’d read this article before, the paper worn and used. 

This is Sirius’ room. He’s always felt normal here, called to dinner just like James, asked to do chores the same, told to _take the snitch and the brooms **outside** , now _just as usual. 

But there’s some tiny lingering sense of being grafted, like a new limb, onto an old body. Maybe it was a more recent feeling. That’s why he’d declined to go with the Potter’s to visit family before the term starts again. Maybe he felt lucky to be here this particular summer, maybe he didn’t feel lucky enough to go on holiday as well. 

His eyes glazed staring at the grainy muggle photo (which didn’t even _move_ ) of John Deacon playing live at _The_ _Rainbow._

He remembered avoiding the dorm room in the last week of June. Up until his own things were the last to be packed. He’d shoved things under his bed to hide them, because the rest of the boys were clearing their own belongings up and it was getting obvious. 

He’d been practically vibrating until he was sore with the tension of trying not to think about it, don’t think about where he’s going this summer. He could never go back home, he would never ever do it, it was a promise to comfort him. 

Then he’d got caught in the dorm with James alone, who asked him, _are you packed yet?_

“Not yet.” He’d said, looking at him with that stillness in his expression. 

“Just get packed, Pads.” James had said and Sirius had heard it in the tone of his voice, where he was going. So he’d nodded and smiled shallowly, as if things were normal, and packed up. Hoping to get out of the dorm before Remus came back around. 

Sirius rolled onto his back and linked his hands up to rest on his forehead, staring at the ceiling as the early afternoon light glowed in from the window. It was late August warm outside, but he’d cast cooling charms strong enough to freeze water in one shot. 

The Potter house has never been so quiet. Sirius became familiar even with the boring days spent here when he and James had nothing to do but play the same games and bicker. But even that was not silent like this. 

He couldn’t sit on the floor anymore so he jumped up and wandered to the kitchen to dig through the pantry. 

He ate an apple while sat folded up on a chair outside, hair tied into a tight bun. He’d take a bite and stare at his feet, up on the chair against him, fiddling with his toes. 

He was bored. He wanted to change shapes and sniff every little tiny silly thing in the garden, trot down the road around the trees and track creatures through the grass. 

He just twisted the core in his fingers and tossed it far as he could across the lawn. 

Almost a week grated on his nerves, he tried everything to keep occupied. He’d never been left to his own devices like this. In the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, he had always had Regulus to spin games with. Reg was a good playmate, even if he did almost cry when their parents reprimanded them. 

He found himself walking on bare human feet around the Potter grounds, after dark. Since it happened, he’d started feeling out of place, and the dissonance was wearing on him for too long. 

In the end it’s selfishness that finds him scavenging James’ room for paper one evening, sitting at his desk and writing. He knows this and does it still because it’s selfishness but it’s loneliness too, which is a bigger and scarier opponent to him. 

_Remus,_

He puts a hand to his forehead and sighs, feeling foolish instantly, and foolhardy for writing his name. 

_I hope you’re well. I hope the last_ _moon was not horrible. I know Pomfrey keeps you stocked with all the potions you need, but if you want a smoke I could send you some._

He sat there for too long trying hard to think of something else to say. The moon was long passed anyways. Nothing came until he gave up. 

_Sirius_

He just about wanted to tear the pathetic stupid thing up but managed to leave it there and go make dinner. He used the recipe that Effie had charmed to the refrigerator door, afraid he wouldn’t know how to feed himself, and still barely managed. Later that night he folded up the paper and slid it in an envelope. 

His relationship with Remus had never been so quiet or so unfamiliar. He thought, maybe, this could be a last call. He couldn’t do any more damage at this point. 

He knew he shouldn’t send it. He knew he shouldn’t have written it, should have kept that reaching hand to himself in the dark. Should have sat with himself and not asked his friends to sit too, if they still were friends, though if that’s what they were then it didn’t have the look of it. 

He tied the letter to the Potter owl and let it fly away, instantly feeling tense again. But he preferred this tension to the frenetic sickness that had started to coat his belly and push into his chest since James had gone. 

* * *

He practically broke the kitchen door down to get to the owl when it came back in the morning, freezing in the doorway to look at it before coming back to his senses and giving the owl an over rough handling for the letter. He did not appreciate the lack of manners and said as much to Sirius who had already started unfolding the paper. 

_I don’t want weed._

He hadn’t even signed his name. Sirius looked out the window and then down at the page, furrow in his brow. He paced the kitchen and looked at his handwriting, thinking about his hand scribbling it out. He tried to remember previous letters he’d sent, remembered if he’d signed his name before. 

Sirius didn’t even think twice before turning the page over and running to his room to get a pen. He had planned to use the back side of Remus’ page but he realized he wanted to save it and got a new one, brought it down to the kitchen and wrote carefully. 

_Remus,_

_I suppose the moon was alright then. Did you have a good summer?_

_Sirius_

He almost didn’t sign his own name but did anyway. He’d always been who he was, and he didn’t know how to deny it anyway. 

He hassled the owl out the window, hurrying it to finish its treats and sending it away. 

The owl didn’t come back that day and Sirius thought he didn’t want to reply. He must have only done so at first to tell him no. This made sense to him. 

Since the incident, life within the marauders had gotten unusually quiet. The school had gotten a respite from pranks all together. The breakfast table was distinctly uncomfortable, for a week at least, before the group had established how to carry on in this new atmosphere. Sirius hadn’t had a full conversation with him since. 

Sirius first had to figure out how to handle the disdain. Remus couldn’t even sit in the same room with him. He could feel the way Remus felt about him, it radiated from him when they were near each other. He saw the anger, the withdraw, the judgment. Sirius had never been on the receiving end of it. He realized now that Moony had always _liked_ him. Now he made quiet exits from his presence. 

Sirius wasn’t sure _anyone_ had ever been treated to such a dismissal from Remus. 

Eventually it had settled down into a quiet avoidance. 

The next day, around noon, the owl came back. 

_Did James go on holiday?_

Sirius wrote back. 

_Yes._

He stared at his own handwriting, lonely on the page. He grit his teeth. He wondered, _is this who I’m supposed to be?_ Just a lonely yes on an empty slip. Defiant but with nothing to show for it. 

He sent it. 

He figured that would be the end of it. 

He thought it was understandable but it didn’t make the pill easier to swallow. 

* * *

Three days later and it appeared that would be all Remus wrote. Sirius didn’t think about it so much as he felt about it. He couldn’t be sure _what_ to think about it. It seemed there was nothing he could do. 

But the cloying silence weighed on him. He couldn’t stop imagining this same silence stretching on forever. No one but James to break it. He couldn’t wait for James to come back home. 

_Is there really no one but James,_ he wondered. He could try Peter but he’d end up snapping at him or they’d have nothing to talk about. He’d always defended Peter from snide remarks in school with some surprisingly nasty hexes which resulted in plenty of detention, he’d never allow anyone else to pick at him, but he’d also been one to do it himself. He could try Marlene or Dorcas but it wasn’t their company he wanted. 

He made a final effort. He wanted a _no_ from Remus, if he was going to get one. He wanted to hear it, if he had to, so he could be sure of it. And he couldn’t stand the silence. 

So he wrote. 

_Remus, I don’t know what to say. But if there’s anything I can say, please tell me. I won’t write again._

_Sirius_

He watched the Potter owl as it glided into the dusk light from the kitchen window. There was no reply through the night but in the morning, the owl returned. 

_Take the knight bus and I’ll meet you at the station._

* * *

Sirius sat at the station with nothing but his muggle clothes on his back. He wrapped his arms around his knees and watched the tiny village tick along. The bus station was miniscule. It was designed to look like a common bench along the main road, tucked against a low stone wall, so the muggles wouldn’t know. The village was bright and quiet, although a few people walked the streets here and there. A breeze swept between the buildings and cooled the town. 

He caught sight of Remus approaching and leapt to his feet. Remus lifted his head and squinted through the afternoon sunlight. 

“Hey.” Sirius stuffed his hands into his pockets, arms tense and eyes a little wide. He felt his heart kick in his chest. He was oddly excited, though he thought he shouldn’t be. 

“Hey.” Remus looked him over and then an awkward silence settled which Sirius broke by ripping a paper bag out of his pocket. 

“I brought pot.”

Remus stared at him, lips opening just slightly and eyes dulling. Sirius didn’t have a chance to speak again because Remus’ eyelids fluttered, and he shook his head as he turned around and started back the way he’d come. 

Sirius shoved the bag into his pocket and caught up to him. He followed him in silence toward the house. 

The paved road winded between clefts of grassy knolls, along rock walls, on out of the village and between farms. They took a turn off the main and the path became pockmarked and littered with weeds growing between cracks in the pavement. 

The silence was surprisingly acceptable. Or at least his mind was quiet for the first time in so long. 

“How have you been.” Sirius asked eventually, to his back. Remus only hardly looked up from the road to speak over his shoulder. 

“Fine.” 

Sirius’ lips twitched down. 

“Have you done anything interesting?” 

“No.” Remus hitched his trousers up just a bit, ran his hand along the hem of his long sleeved shirt to adjust it brusquely. Sirius’ eyes caught and lingered at the little strip of skin that flashed just under his shirt before it disappeared. 

His mouth caught up before even his thoughts did, as usual. “Nothing?” 

“No, nothing.” Remus took a moment, hand in his pocket. “We’ve just stayed home.” 

Sirius hummed and quieted down, letting them rest in the silence for the rest of the journey. 

He knows Remus and James have been writing. James doesn’t bring it up but Sirius had looked over his shoulder at his desk one day, checked the handwriting. 

It had been very uncomfortable, this summer. Typically there were letters back and forth and the group planned outings. This time, nothing. There hadn’t been any talking of it at all. There were no full moons because no one could know about their animagus forms. Sirius was sure James had asked to visit Remus. 

He wanted to ask so much but he figured it was smart not to push his luck. He was saved from asking by the appearance of the Lupin home. Remus brushed his shoes on the step before opening the door and pushing inside. 

“Mum?” Remus called. His voice had gotten deeper a few years ago and Sirius' ears caught on the scratch of it. 

“In here!” Came the sound of his mother’s voice.

Sirius' body went taught with a snap, his head lifting up and eyes going just slightly wide. Something like vague trepidation flashed in his gaze which pointed to the voice. He hesitated for a second while Remus went toward her. He looked over his shoulder, their eyes meeting for a second before Remus carried on without pause. Sirius followed, hands curling into loose fists at his sides. 

They came through the sitting room and down a short and narrow hall, past the washroom, through the doorway to the kitchen. It was a small, cozy thing. There was a dinner table pushed against the wall and some cluttered counters and cabinets, and a backdoor propped open to let the late summer breeze in with the sunshine. The refrigerator was styled from the early sixties, it hummed quietly over the sound of the scratchy radio on the counter which was playing _Someone To Watch Over Me_ by Ella Fitzgerald. 

Hope turned it down to a barely audible fizzle. 

“Sirius!” She smiled at him and approached him with open arms. He didn’t manage to fix his expression but rested his hands lightly on her shoulders to receive the hug she gave him. 

He’d met Hope several times in passing and the boys had spent time at the Lupin house in summers past. He was already an inch taller than her, Remus had just surpassed her height as well. She was dressed in a blue grey shirt that reached her elbows and jeans cuffed just above her ankles. She had a comforting presence like Remus had. Something steady and in the way she stood. As if she was comfortable. As if nothing could surprise her. 

“Good to see you, dear.” She patted his back as she pulled away before she pressed her hands against her son’s face and kissed his cheek, welcomed him back. He murmured his own greeting, placing a touch on her elbow. 

Hope leaned against the counter and chatted with Sirius. He stood up tall and didn’t shy away from her gaze, answered her polite questions. She managed to avoid every possible thing he wouldn’t want to speak about, choosing to ask about school and his classes and the Potters and his summer which had been eventless anyway. 

She invited them to help her with the garden and they followed out behind her. Sirius relaxed. There was little else to do, with the comfortable ease of the company and the distraction of the vegetables, the scent of turned earth. He knelt near Remus and followed his lead, pulling weeds and watching his hands in the mulch. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. 

They worked silently, nothing but the conversation of how best to tend the herbs, directions here and there from Hope. 

An hour or so before dinner, they wrapped up their work and Hope dismissed them from the garden. He followed Remus to the sink and they washed their hands, murky water flowing to the drain. He made sure they didn’t touch. 

When the tap was turned off, they dried their hands on kitchen towels. The silence reigned for a second and Sirius asked. 

“Does she not know?” Remus’ hands paused, he blinked at them before drying off and hanging the towel over the sink. 

“The headmaster wrote to her about what happened. But he didn’t name anyone.” 

Sirius stared at him, eyes flickering over his face. 

“Remus!” Hope’s voice called through the open door, her footsteps brushing across the grass. Sirius jumped as if she’d shouted, head whipping around. She leaned in the doorway and asked Remus if they could start peeling potatoes for supper. He got started opening the pantry to dig out the potatoes and she disappeared to the garden again. 

He sat at the table and Sirius followed, picking up a knife and following his lead to peel the potatoes. He was no good at it. He was hardly any good at the garden either, but he just copied what he saw, even if his potatoes came out lumpy and misshapen under his own knife. 

He stared at Remus across the table where he was focused on his own task. 

_You didn’t tell her what I did._

He wouldn’t. Still…

Sirius managed to keep his mouth shut and focused on the potatoes. 

That night, Lyall transfigured the ratty armchair in the upstairs study into a twin bed and levitated it into Remus’ bedroom. Sirius had never had more than one conversation with Lyall Lupin. It wasn’t even a conversation, their greeting. Just the barest of meeting. Remus’ relationship with Lyall was, in the simplest of terms, at least mostly nonverbal. But there was something discerning about Lyall’s gaze that Sirius recognized. 

Before bed that night he wrote to James, so that his parents would know where he was, as they had asked him to do if he left the house. He and James had conferred months ago about the state of the marauders as they did everything in life, there were no secrets between them and there was very little that James wouldn’t mention even if it was a touchy topic. He had not encouraged Sirius to write to Remus over the summer. 

James was the first one to explain to Sirius, what he’d done. He too was angry enough to stay silent at first, but it only took one day of Sirius glaring at Snape for James to turn on him. Loudly. 

James’ reply came promptly as they were settling into bed. Sirius read it, his blocky handwriting, by the open window while Remus waited to turn off the lamplight. 

_GOOD LUCK. FIX IT._

* * *

They slept the morning in. Remus had never been a morning person. Sirius typically woke at the sounds of the morning, but even he seemed to need the sleep. The bedroom was well lit, the sounds of Lyall and Hope talking drifted muffled through the walls, and the two breathed deep and slow in their beds until Hope knocked on the door. 

Remus grumbled and lifted his bedraggled head, to blink sleepy eyes at her where she leaned into the room. 

“Going to the shops in a bit, if you want to come along.” 

Remus flopped his head back to the pillow and agreed, rolling over as she shut the door again. Sirius was quickly waking and dressing as Remus sighed and stretched. He was slow today. With the full moon in a handful of days, it takes him a bit of time to work out the stiffness that gathers while he sleeps. 

Sirius was running his fingers through his hair, yawning as he watched Remus dress. Perhaps James or Peter would have already stomped downstairs to start the day but Sirius had always been preoccupied with his company. Even if it was silent company like today. At least it was something, this strange visit, at least Remus was letting him sit here. Perhaps if he tried to think before he spoke, they would eventually get better. 

There was something about the way Remus’ eyes flickered over him, sitting on the transfigured bed shoehorned into the room among the clothes and books strewn around. It had been like that since he’d arrived. Back at school, since it happened, he didn’t look at Sirius and if he happened to it was nothing pleasant. Now, when he glanced at him, it was still nothing pleasant. Somehow it made Sirius feel like he was losing his attention instead of gaining it. It made him feel like speaking or doing something to break this strange, uninterested coldness. As if Remus had seen enough. 

There was a thread of tension running between them and Sirius could feel it, as they had tea and prepared for the trip to the town. A low heat, like Remus was waiting for him to prove him right. He often struggled to understand the _why_ of a bad mood but he could sense it in a room like a living thing, always, if it was there. 

All this he left aside as he ducked into the backseat of Hope’s car with Remus. It started up with a hiccupping screech and the little thing trundled away from the house. Hope laughed at the sight of Sirius figuring the knob on the door, she smiled at him in the reflection of the rearview mirror as he turned it and discovered the window rolling down. The sunlight was blinding, setting Hope’s hair on fire as it fluttered in the air around her face and she also rolled her window down. 

Sirius crawled up on his knees and stuck his head out the window, looking all around and watching the wheels turn, the wind push the grass, the road disappearing behind them, the rust on the roof of the car. He laughed at everything and leaned back to look at Hope and Remus. Remus was looking out his own window, slouched comfortably in his seat, arms crossed over his chest so his fingers wrapped around his elbows. Sirius’ cheer paused as he looked. Realized suddenly that he’d expected to find Remus looking back at him like green grows to the sun. Realized suddenly that he wasn’t the sun anymore. 

He turned again to lean out the window and watch the country roll by. It soothed him, the breeze and the sun, so he thought he could breathe around the low strain between them and the challenge that Remus seemed to both harbor for him and care nothing about. Breathe around the so, so unfamiliar doubt that had made a home in him, be it ever so humble. He’d never really had time to doubt himself, his thoughts moved so fast he forgot to, and why should he? 

They parked at the outskirts of the town and got out to walk. They stopped at shops along the way to the market, everywhere they felt like. Sometimes they’d separate and meet up on the street again. Remus ended up in the bookstore, looking for something or another, and Sirius followed Hope along the street. They passed a vintage seller, the window displaying some rings old enough to have been worn in the first great muggle war. Hope stepped inside and Sirius followed close behind. 

He followed her to the rings and crouched beside to stare and turn them over. He got the sudden strange feeling he got when he was around Euphemia Potter, sometimes. Every once in a while he’d become hyper aware that she was _mother._ Not _his_ mother, not at all. But a mother, nonetheless. Something about the way they treated Sirius, as if they had judged him too as _son._ Not her son, not at all. But a son, nonetheless. Someone’s son. And this at least, was something they understood about him. 

For all his family name and his looks and the daring glimmer in his eye and the trouble he kicked up everywhere he went, they had looked at him and never thought twice. _Just a boy, isn’t he._

He followed her around as she searched the pipes, telling him about how Mr. Lupin liked them and she was hoping she might find a good Christmas gift for him here. 

He was turning over old model airplanes (like a car, except it flies, except without magic) when he heard Hope gasp quietly and pat his shoulder. 

“Oh, Sirius look at that!” He lifted his head and followed her gaze. 

A leather jacket was hanging on a rack of haphazardly folded and mismatched clothing items. She came over to it and turned the tag over. 

“It’s only twenty pounds!” She whispered conspiratorially, grinning excitedly. She pulled it off its wire hanger and held it up to his chest, measuring it by his shoulders as he stuttered a laugh in surprise. “Here,” She pulled the jacket around his shoulders, his arms through the sleeves, fitting it snug on him. 

She brushed down the lapels and swiped off the shoulders, down his arms, tugging on it and leaning around to brush off his back. 

“Oh, have a look in the mirror dear, come look!” She carried on to a mirror standing near and waved at him as he followed her. 

He took a look and she stood beside, smiling, her purse hanging off her arm. His eyes widened at his reflection and he saw his own head lift in interest. He darted his eyes to Hope as if to share in the novelty. 

“I look _so cool!”_ He laughed and she stepped forward to pick at the jacket and inspect it some more. 

“It was made for you. It’s hardly got a scuff on it! It’s in fine condition, the leather is good quality. Put that Queen shirt of yours on and you’ll be a proper little rocker! Or what was that other band you boys are listening to. The _Buzzcocks?”_

“Mrs. Lupin!” Sirius gaped, half scandalized and half horribly delighted at the sound of the word _buzzcocks_ leaving her mouth. He didn’t even have time to complain about ‘ _proper little rocker’. “_ Such language for a lady!”

She took a glance at his expression and tilted her head back as she turned away and laughed darkly, as if reveling. “This lady knows more naughty words than _that,_ dear.” 

Sirius followed along after her, barking a laugh and trying to keep up. She took them to the counter. He protested instantly, asking if he could pay for it, but she turned and smoothly snapped the price tag off the cuff to hand to the cashier. 

“It’s nothing.” She practically steamrolled him with her easy going, smiling assertion and before he knew it they were getting the change. 

She made for the door and they stepped onto the street. 

“Thank you, Hope.” He said, with feeling. It came out stiff and a bit formal because he didn’t know what name he should call her. Mrs. Lupin was too formal and she didn’t prefer it, but it was most comfortable. Hope wasn’t quite right either. 

She smiled and patted his arm, “Of course, Sirius.” She seemed to think little of it and carried on. When they found Remus again, his gaze flickered over Sirius, caught for a moment. His lips tilted down discerningly, he nodded. _Looks good,_ he’d said shortly, still looking. Then he looked away and the boys followed Hope along the street. 

They went to the farmer’s market, looked at all the fruits and vegetables outside. Hope gave the boys a shopping list and directed them to collect before she went inside the shop to do her own part. They walked around the stands and picked out tomatoes and herbs and potatoes and kale and strawberries.

A few girls were glancing at them, speaking quietly to each other. Remus noticed and glanced at them briefly. Sirius followed his gaze to the girls and he thought little of it, because Remus was already walking on down the aisle toward the onions. 

He was pointing to a particular onion when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. 

“Excuse me.” It was one of the young girls watching them. Her voice was tinted with a heavier Welsh lilt than Remus’. 

“Yes?” Sirius asked, eyeing her up and down. Remus watched for just a moment before turning his gaze back to the onions. He hadn’t yet chosen any but now he seemed to pick some up at random and shove them in the sack promptly. 

“Um,” She stuttered, nervously, before she shoved out a hand with a piece of paper in it. He took it instinctively, without meaning to, still staring at her. “I was just over with my friends,” her other hand fluttered vaguely toward the other two girls. “I was wondering - I thought I could give you my number.”

“Oh.” Sirius’ brow raised and an amused grin turned his mouth, showing his teeth, as if he thought it was funny. _Her number? Like a telephone?_ There was something mean about it, his eyes on her. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, sure.” She was already retreating, backing away, her cheeks burning red. She turned swiftly back to her friends who were covering their mouths and sort of giggling with each other. It was clear she was embarrassed, and they were embarrassed for her. When she made it to them they took her under the arms and made a quick exit. 

Sirius turned back to Remus with an incredulous laughing smirk which fell away. Remus had shoved the last onion in the bag and was tying the bag off, with a hard look on his face. 

“That was odd.” Sirius said, trying to push him to react. Remus just shook his head, ever so slightly, and walked away with that same look. 

Sirius followed behind him with a sinking stomach, expression blank but also shaded with worry. He was silent as he waited for Remus to pay for the shopping with the money his mother had given him. He was just finishing up when Hope arrived to pay and Remus told her they would wait at the street. Sirius followed, Remus’ arms wrapped around a paper bag of goods. 

They made it to the street. Remus sat the bag down on the pavement while they waited. Sirius paused beside him and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He realized suddenly with a squeeze in his chest, _thank god_ Hope hadn’t been there to see it, too. He realized she would think him cruel. 

He spoke thoughtlessly. 

“It’s not like I told her _no.”_ He blurted, eyes bearing into his face. Did he really care that much about that girl’s feelings? A stranger? Remus just turned his head and stayed silent, though Sirius could see the tendon in his neck shift when he grit his teeth. 

“Are we ready boys?” Hope called them and they turned to her.

“Yep.” Remus picked up the bag, they followed her to the car and loaded the bags in the front seat. The boys crawled in the back and Sirius left the window rolled up all the way home. Hope turned the radio on and saved him from the quiet. 

The rest of the evening, neither of the boys made any effort to leave Hope’s presence. They cooked with her or played cards at the kitchen table while she read a book or watched a gameshow on the telly with her. Sirius didn’t try and get Remus alone because he was sure they’d fight somehow, and he wasn’t sure anymore where they’d come out on the other side. 

At night they settled in wordlessly, besides practical conversation, went to bed. 

Sirius laid in the dark and remembered the look on his face in the market. 

He’d never have thought anything of it before, before all this mess they were in, but now it glared at him in his mind as if branded there. The shake of his head, so slight you almost couldn’t see it, but intended for him. That expression. It was unsurprised. As if he’d expected as much. 

Even still, _even_ now, he felt the rebellion in his own mind against this judgement. 

Sirius could feel his thoughts start running away in his head and he turned over, tugging the blanket to cover his head completely to stop his mind, hiding underneath. 

He wouldn’t wear the jacket tomorrow.

* * *

In the morning Remus was aching. Sirius, who woke before him, could tell just from the pattern of his breathing when he rolled over. He could hear the tightness of his throat, the way he hesitates before exhaling. 

Sirius would go over to him, normally, hover and perhaps distract him.

There was a knock on the door and Hope leaned in quietly. “Going to make breakfast, boys.” She paused with an even, easy gaze at her son. “Remus, darling? You alright?” 

“Yes. Fine.” He said, eyes still shut, sighing. 

“Alright,” She murmured and shut the door. 

Sirius went to the bathroom to brush his teeth while Remus dressed. He would be fine, with the moon a few days away. It was always worse in the morning, he’d loosen up soon. Some moons were worse than others.

Sirius helped Hope with the cooking and Remus joined them at the table for breakfast. Lyall came down and said goodbye to his wife with a touch to her arm, accepted her kiss on his cheek, and took the flue to work. 

After breakfast Remus asked him, “D’you want to smoke?” 

“Sure.” Sirius nodded and he jogged up the stairs to get the lighter and the rolls, followed Remus out of the back door toward the shed in the back. They passed by the cellar on the way. It was deceptively battered, no one would think it could contain a werewolf. 

The shed behind the house was grey and old and busted, the wood pale and shrunken by years of moisture and cold. Inside was ample space for working, tools on the walls and shelves, and a car older than either of them. 

Remus pulled the handle and slipped into the driver’s seat. Sirius into the passenger seat, he pulled the door shut with a creak and a metallic thud. The car was old enough that the front seat was one long bench, cushioned but the vinyl upholstery was cracked and faded. Sirius tucked a foot up under his thigh, body turned to Remus a bit as he set the bag on the seat and pulled out the rolls. 

Sunlight was streaming through the crack in the shed door ahead of them, where Remus hadn’t shut it all the way. When he looked up at it, he could see the dust of the air floating through the beam, like fine ocean currents. Inside the car and the light was filtered down to a quiet glow, soft in shadows. 

Sirius handed him a blunt and a lighter. Remus put it between his lips and sparked the flame, holding it to the end while he sucked in. The flame lit his face and Sirius stared, thoughts escaping him. He liked the way his light brown eyes turned amber in the glow, before the lighter extinguished. 

He thought, _I’m sorry_ in his direction. 

Remus handed it to him, their fingers brushing. Sirius swallowed, eyes flickering over his face which remained always impassive. Unmoved. 

Sirius took a drag. They passed several minutes this way, quietly. 

Sirius thought the only thing better for racing thoughts than a good smoke was changing into Padfoot and having a good run, preferably a boy or a wolf by his side. He hadn’t done that in so many months he was starting to forget the way the colors muted in those eyes. 

Remus took a deep drag and now they both were sunken into the front seat, shoulders loose, able to speak easy. Remus started talking to him about shows in London. Then the new book he was reading, met with the obligatory jokes, but ultimately with open ears, interested opinions. Eventually circled back to their friends. 

“I think James might…” Remus paused for a moment and a handsome smile bared his teeth, “I think he might, maybe, actually have a chance with Lily.” 

“ _Evans?”_ He gave a look, “Lily _Evans?”_

“Yes.” Remus laughed under his breath. 

He was finally breathing deep and even. The moon ache smoked out of him, so he couldn’t notice the pain in his muscles and joints. The aching of his bones, as if they feared being snapped and broken as they would do soon. He could breathe and forget it, take himself back to the middle of the moon cycle, when he actually felt like a normal boy who could run and jump without any pain. 

“Well, I dare to think you’re right.” Sirius mumbled, taking a drag and looking out the windshield. His voice was quiet and they both knew they couldn’t even continue this conversation. Because the reason why James had started to change enough for Lily to reconsider had too much to do with exactly what they couldn’t speak about. 

So the silence lulled and Sirius leaned his cheek on the back of the seat, still facing him. 

“The moon is in two days?” Sirius asked but he knew. He hadn’t accompanied Moony in a long time, but every full moon of the term James and Peter did. 

“Yeah.” Remus rasped. His head was leaned back, eyes closed. 

“Is it going to be okay?” Sirius whispered. Remus breathed out and his jaw twinged. 

“Fuck off.” He muttered with a slight chuckle to lighten his words. 

Sirius swallowed on a strange lump in his throat. He stared at the side of his face, thought about the new scars on his hips that Sirius had caught sight of. Thought about the extra day he’d spent with Madame Pomfrey, the first moon after everything had happened. Thought about the way James visited him, more than he usually did. The way James stuck around Remus more than he usually would. The way James had returned exhausted from those moons, even he had ached, possibly for the first time, from those long nights. 

The moons could be managed to be tolerable, no new scars, plenty of pain potions. But they could be just as hard on a bad night. 

Sirius looked at the back seat of the car, hidden from the daylight, hidden from their friends and everyone on earth, every watching eye. He wanted to crawl in the back and hide, too. Wanted Remus to come with him and curl up on the seat, in the dust and the dark, and hide with him. He wanted everything to be okay, again. 

There was a tug in his chest that pulled and pulled until he felt it forcing up his throat. 

“Can I come with you?” 

“No.” Remus said immediately, opening his eyes to stare at the hood. 

“But James isn’t here.” Sirius breathed. “I could help with Moony.” 

“No.” Remus shook his head. He was quiet for a while before he spoke again. “And Mum and Dad would find out, anyways.” 

He knew he shouldn’t ask again but he couldn’t stop his mouth. “Just let me come by after dark and I’ll lay at the door. So you can smell me. It’ll be better than-”

“ _No_ , Sirius.” Remus bit out, firmly. “No, do not do that. You’ll make it worse, I won’t- it won’t…” He seemed to struggle but pushed through. “The wolf won’t like that, so just stay away.” 

The words seemed to shame him, as only the full moon could, but he did well not to show it. Sirius turned forward and stared at the sunlight through the door, with nothing to say. Padfoot was supposed to help Moony. Apparently he didn’t anymore.

He wondered, _how long will it be like this? When will I be able to join you again? Will it always be this way?_

He was quiet again. He wasn’t used to this silence, wanted to go back to bouncing off the walls and saying whatever he wanted to whomever he pleased – but Remus had laid the quiet down between them and told Sirius to mind it and he was. Until Remus whispered for them to go inside, and they did. They laid on the beds in his room and dozed for a few hours as the afternoon grew and waned. 

It was easier than he would think, falling asleep. Coming off a lingering high, grateful that at least while they slept their friendship wouldn’t change like it seemed to every time Remus looked at him. 

They woke in the evening around five. They laid around until Sirius offered, “Do you want to go for a walk?” 

Just getting out of the house helped. Walking around the fields behind the house while the evening birds called and the sun tempted the horizon. They ducked under fences and across hills that jumped with insects who leaped and hummed in the sharpening light. They tried to get close to a herd of cows with no success. Eventually they rounded back to the house.

The walk was slow and quiet but for the sounds of rocks beneath their shoes and crickets humming. The shimmer of the sunset and the clouds, clashing in the dusk and creating another fast dying universe which bled to death before their admiring eyes. 

They were just approaching the house when Sirius paused, opened his mouth as he stared at the back of his head, and spoke. 

“Remus.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder, eyes going quiet at the tone of his voice. “Could we talk?” He didn’t respond but to keep staring at Sirius with that unreadable eye, so Sirius added, “Please?” 

“Talk about what.” Remus turned to face him, the house behind him. The lights were yellow and burning warm from the kitchen windows. 

Sirius grit his teeth, chin tucking down in that defiant way. 

“About what happened.” 

“What happened?” Remus asked, eyes looking at him so unbothered. Looking _through_ him.

Sirius realized he didn’t even know how to say it out loud. He opened his mouth, hesitating before his dark lashes fluttered and he regained his footing and his eloquence. 

“What happened with Snape on the full moon.” He said quietly but evenly. 

Remus put his hands on his hips and took a moment of looking through him again before speaking. 

“What do you want to say.” 

Sirius frowned at his obstinance, “I want to _talk_ about it, I want to _fix_ it.” 

“You want to fix it.” Remus’ brow twinged and he huffed. He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to ring out the anger and the fatigue that fell on him suddenly. He looked so angry Sirius was tense where he stood. 

“ _What?”_ He snapped but his teeth clicked shut as Remus turned his hallowing eyes on him. 

“You haven’t even told me you’re _sorry.”_

The dusk light illuminated him so that his eyes seemed to burn, a threshing floor for Sirius to brave. But he’d always been brave at heart. 

“I _am_ sorry, of course I’m sorry.” He pressed. Remus could have been made of stone for all he moved. 

“Sorry for what?” 

Sirius wasn’t sure. The seconds that stretched in his faltering seemed to speak for him. 

“I’m sorry I did it. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“That is not good enough.” Remus’ jaw twinged and his breathing came slow but heavy. 

“What do you want me to say, Remus.” Sirius asked, wide eyes angry and desperate. 

“What do you think, Sirius?” He snapped, took a step toward him. “Maybe you should start with being sorry for what you did to Severus.” 

Sirius’ head reared back and his eyes flashed incredulously, “To _Severus?”_

“ _Yes!”_

“He was _poking around your business!_ Trying to _out_ you! He wanted to find out!” 

“ _Shut up!”_ Remus shouted, startling Sirius into silence. “You should be sorry that you told him to come find me! Because you knew it was wrong when you told him and you didn’t care!” 

“I didn’t want to kill him, I just wanted to scare him!” He pleaded, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Stop it!” Remus snapped, his hands shaking. “Stop staying you didn’t mean to! You knew what you were doing just like you knew what you were doing when you and James bullied and _humiliated_ him every day. Just like _James knew_ what he was doing. You wanted to hurt him! Stop saying you didn’t mean to!” 

Sirius was breathing shallow and uneven but he didn’t speak, eyes wide. 

“I don’t care what he did or what you thought. As soon as James found out he ran to stop him, because _you put his life in danger!”_ Remus stared at him, eyes full of anger and hurt, as if he’d never seen Sirius before. “You _should_ be sorry you almost killed him, that you almost had _me kill him! I would have killed him, Sirius!_ You shouldn’t be sorry you did it, you should be sorry you ever thought of me like that. You should be sorry – it should have _never_ crossed your mind.” 

He turned his head to the side and ran a hand through his hair, his scarred expression crumpling for a second so that the anger dissolved away. He turned back to look at a spot on Sirius’ chest, “I am your _friend,_ Sirius.” He met his eyes. “I’m your friend. You should have protected me. Of course I don’t trust you. You should have _protected me,_ like you promised.” 

Sirius’ head was still ringing as Remus let the quiet return. He couldn’t think fast enough to shake his frozen thoughts. 

“Fuck.” Remus whispered, turning away so Sirius couldn’t see the expression on his face. He rubbed a hand over his face and then strode hard away from him to the house, through the grass that waved in the dusk. 

Sirius stood there, watching him until he disappeared with a slam of the kitchen door. He stood there, thoughts frozen and heart still hammering away, until he managed to move again. 

He hid in the tool shed, in the back seat of the old junk car, hid his face in his hands. He let the night come on. 

He'd said he didn't mean to hurt anyone. But that wasn't the truth, in fact. And they both knew it and he didn't try to hide it. The truth was that since running away, his relationship with Regulus had finally withered completely. He was frustrated and angry constantly, his attempts to communicate going rebuffed, and the fights increasing to any Slytherin who so much as looked at him with too much confidence. Every day looked bleaker between his hostile cousins and his brother who wouldn't even look at him in the hall, and he was shadowed every day with guilt. Snape was just an easy target. He would sneer and James would practically jump at the chance to antagonize him, Sirius right beside.

And then there was that gone uninspected urge he had that made him want to hurt him, until it was clear who'd won, because it would feel good.

Yes, he'd known the risk and he'd known who he was using. Somehow, he simply hadn't thought much of it.

Somehow. Because then, as he was staring at Remus in the darkened grass, who he'd known since eleven years old, he'd seen more of this person than probably anyone else had, it wasn't the fact that he'd been capable of it that scared him. What unnerved him was what he came so close to doing to Remus, if not for James.

Remus at twelve years old, wide eyed and tense in every muscle as James asked him if he'd guessed right. At fourteen, deeply truly speechless at the sight of their animagus forms. Looking so peculiarly vulnerable for a moment as they all stared at each other, and yet he didn't cry. As if he couldn't. Sirius wouldn't know it but Hope would say that Remus had cried in the beginning. Great long, terrible cries that petered off into silent tears in the year following the accident. And it was her opinion that he'd cried himself out, then and there. As if he'd scared his little self with his own never ending tears and now, no matter what, he just never managed it again. Hope had to pry answers out of her growing boy, at seven, eight, nine, ten years old, when something upset him. The attack had scared him, and the confusing transformations every month had scared him, so much so it had just knocked loose his perception of what was truly upsetting in this world.

Remus running down the hall from Filch, cursing. Shooting a jinx at James' broom and smirking, playing chess with Peter and sharing knowing looks with him. Looking right into Sirius' sight hound eyes and just watching, like no one else would. Thinking so evenly and smooth behind amber eyes, it was so clear that his mind and his thoughts were a glassy lake, consistent and navigable, unlike Sirius. Moving quietly below all social notice, comfortably dodging other student's inquiries and intrigue where they survived his attempts to kill them before birth. And the pain of the moonlight, and the wild happy freedom of the night. And the smile and the rasping laugh he made during the daytime despite the horror that had sunk right to his bones at five years old, quieted down, and never quite left. Some things he just can't speak about.

But he was happy. Very happy.

And Sirius had almost taken it away.

When he felt ready enough, he crawled out, walked through the grass in the dark. He slipped in the kitchen door. 

Inside, Lyall was sat at the table, talking with Hope who was setting food on the table. Mr. Lupin looked up first before returning his eyes to the table and arranging the plates and silverware. Hope turned to spot him lingering. 

“Oh, Sirius.” She smiled at him and waved him over to the table, “Just in time, come on and sit, love.” 

Sirius thought it must show on his face, as he poured himself a glass of water and came to sit down. All of it, in the smooth and calm, hollow look and the bags under his eyes. But neither of them made any mention that they knew anything at all. Hope leaned up the stairs to call her son down, before coming back to sit. 

Sirius kept his eyes on the plate of food Hope had set in front of him while Remus poured some water and came to sit beside him, across from his mother. Once he’d sat down, Sirius couldn’t help his eyes from taking him in, staring at him. Watching him make a plate and slouch in his chair with his elbow on the table as if he could barely hold himself up, maybe the moon was making his shoulders ache. Or maybe it was Sirius and all the trust he’d mangled. 

The boys were quiet as they ate. Sirius picked and Remus ate but didn’t ask for more like he would normally. They let Hope and Lyall carry conversation about politics and old friends. It was mostly Hope speaking and Lyall nodding along and offering an opinion here or there. It was different from Euphemia and Fleamont but it seemed just as natural. 

Sirius was so tense it hurt but he didn’t slouch his posture, sat up straight, until he eventually relaxed. And somehow, he did. The dinner table had been a historically unpleasant place for Sirius growing up. He was used to a level of comfort at the Potter’s. But he didn’t expect to be lulled like he was now, shoulders finally drooping and one elbow on the table so he could rest his flushed cheek on his hand. 

Both the boys looked tired. Sirius never missed the track of Lyall’s eyes over his son, flickering between them, taking note. But he didn’t mind. He just turned back to look at Hope, waited for dinner to be over so he could help clean up a bit. 

“We can take care of it from here, dear.” Hope eventually said after the table was cleared. Sirius dismissed himself promptly, needing not to be told twice. He left Hope and Remus in the kitchen, Lyall in the living room nearby, and he escaped up the stairs. 

He paused at the top step and held on to the rail on the wall, listening with slow and quiet breaths. 

“Remus?” Hope asked, her voice low and quiet and soft. “Is everything alright?” 

Sirius sunk down silently and sat on the top step, one hand still curled around the handrail, hardly breathing. He listened to the clattering of dishes which filled the moments it took for Remus to answer her. 

“Yeah, m’fine.” He said so quietly Sirius strained to hear over the sound of the faucet turning on and off. 

“You don’t seem fine.” Hope said simply. She had the same exact tone that Remus had, gentle but somehow inescapably firm. 

“Well, I am fine, so…” Remus seemed to grasp for something to say. The sounds of the work died down and Sirius imagined them in his mind's eye, just around the corner, in the kitchen light, leaning against the counter. 

“Is something going on between you two?” Hope murmured, he imagined her arms crossed. 

“No.” Remus said promptly. There was a silence that lasted for a few moments. She must have done something that convinced him to speak again. She must have reached over to touch his cheek, brush the hair behind his ear. “It’s fine, mum.” He whispered. The house was so quiet Sirius could hear it now. 

“Your father and I worry about you.” She said in the quiet. If Lyall worried about anyone, the only one who’d ever hear about it must be her. Maybe someday he would put a big, weathered hand on Remus’ shoulder and call him _son_ , when it was just the two of them in private, and they’d both know everything needed knowing between them. But for now, it was just Hope, asking Remus to tell her the truth. 

_You should tell her._ Sirius realized suddenly in the night covered house, at the top of the stairs, hand holding the rail and blinking at the bottom of the steps. _It’s not fair. You should tell her._

She asked again, “Did something happen? With Sirius?” 

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “But it’s okay, and I don’t want to… I don’t want to talk about it. Everything’s fine.” 

_She should know,_ he thought. 

_Someone_ should know, someone who cared about him. An adult, who would tell Remus that it was wrong. Hope would tell him, _Sirius shouldn’t have done that, that shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t your fault._

Even James knew better than to ask Remus to forgive him. But James should have told Sirius to leave him alone, should have told Remus _he shouldn’t have done that to you. It wasn’t your fault._ But he was just a boy himself, and he wanted his friends to be okay again. 

How could anyone forgive him for this. Even James’ forgiveness surprised him, but it returned as it always did for Sirius, faithfully. He shouldn’t ask Remus to do the same. 

And someone should be there to let Remus know.

“You can always talk to me.” She told him, as it was clear he wouldn’t. There was a rustling in the silence and he guessed, he imagined, that he hugged her. The moment dragged on before his voice came muffled, into her shoulder or her hair. 

“I know, Mum.” 

Sirius stood up without making a sound and crept to the bedroom, crawled into the sheets without even taking his jeans off. He curled in a ball and hid under the blankets. 

Eventually Remus went to his own bed quietly in the dark as well. 

* * *

The next day was the day of the full moon. Sirius woke early to the sound of Hope making tea and toast, Lyall visiting with her before he left for a day of work. Sirius lay in the bed and listened to them speak, listened to the cups clink, listened to the shrike call outside the window as the sun slowly rose. Listened to Remus breathing deep and slow nearby. Stared at the ceiling and the back of his own eyelids and out the window, over at the light as it crawled over the ceiling and down the wall and the bedroom door. He lay for a long time, until the room was full of brightness and the sound of a quiet morning, Lyall throwing powder into the fireplace and leaving for the day. 

And Remus. Breathing deeply. 

He eventually sat up and went to the restroom, dressed in last night’s clothes, brushed his teeth and washed his face. He walked downstairs to the kitchen and greeted Hope, who bid him good morning with a cup of tea. He sat there with her and drank it. In just a moment, Remus came downstairs as well, taking them slow and deliberately. He sat at the table and had tea and they each descended into the morning lull. 

Remus was the first to break and make back up to the bedroom, perhaps to change clothes. Sirius helped Hope put away the cups before he wiped his hands on his jeans. 

“Excuse me.” He said to her and she hummed, _of course._ He made his way up the stairs, pushed open the door to the bedroom. 

Remus sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly pulling on a shirt. He paused when he looked up to see Sirius. 

His eyes glowed like autumn grass in the morning light through the window, his hair shining dusty auburn. They looked at each other for a moment before Sirius approached the bed and sat down beside him, hands braced by his sides. 

Remus slouched, looking at him, and Sirius met his eyes. His mouth opened and his brow furrowed. But he stared into his eyes when he spoke. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sirius had always had a strange ease with eye contact. He would stare and stare as if the world would come into order before his eyes if he just looked long enough. He’d cut through with those pretty grey eyes, make sense of everything. 

Most people made attempts to avoid his gaze. Not Remus. 

He stared back, and they peered into each other. 

Sirius said again, voice quiet but finally so honest it was easy. “I’m sorry, Remus.” 

He looked away because his nose stung. He turned his face and hid the way moisture gathered on his lids. Boys aren’t supposed to cry. But he’d never been much for the rules. 

“I’m sorry.” Sirius said to the door. He felt a hand on his back and it only forced real tears to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight he couldn’t feel the sting anymore. He felt guilty for the hand on his back, he thought about what would have happened to Remus if James had not stopped Severus. 

He couldn’t make himself look at him but he could turn his face forward again, brow furrowed and eyes gleaming. “I want to be your friend, and I want to protect you.” 

“I know.” Remus said. Sirius swallowed shakily. He should not be crying. He kept his hands pressed into the mattress. 

“I am sorry.” Sirius said again. 

“I know.” Remus said. “I got it.” He put a hand on his shoulder and tugged until Sirius yielded, and he put his arms around him. Sirius held on and they hugged in the late morning light, saying nothing more. 

_No more._

Sirius just held on tight, squeezed his eyes shut. Held on until Remus let his arms slide down from around him. They sat together, hands to themselves in their laps, for a moment. Deciding where they were going now. 

“Walk?” Remus offered. 

“Sure,” Sirius rasped and they took the stares down and left through the back door, escaping unseen. They took a similar path to before, through the grass, still wet from the morning. 

Sirius looked over his shoulder to see the Lupin home had disappeared from sight. He changed into Padfoot and walked beside him through the dew, the world exploding in all the scents and dulled colors. He could smell rain to the north. He looked up at Remus who let a hand brush over his ear. His tongue lolled out and he turned away to trot ahead. 

His thoughts were far away now. Maybe he should be clinging to them, wondering. 

_No more._

He wouldn’t keep opening this wound for them, this would have to be enough. They would have to leave this here, if they were to start to move forward. 

He sniffed every tree they passed and ran circles around Remus, gliding through the damp grass for an hour. They turned back when a thundercloud rolled in. He could smell the water on the air, the burn of the electricity, as they turned toward home. 

He kept pace with Remus, hands in his pockets, caught the scent of his hair and the clothes he wore. Kept him always in sight, the familiar shape of his shoulders, the gate of his walk at this time of the moon’s phases. 

Rain started to sprinkle on them before they made it to the house. Black fur dampened and weighed down, became darker than before, the scent of wet dog fur mixing with the petrichor. Remus’ auburn head didn’t duck but just tilted back to watch the storm cloud cover the land and slowly open up. Dark spots appeared on his shoulders, though his stride didn’t quicken. 

They made it within sight of the house and Padfoot shook himself roughly before he changed back, blinking through the drizzle. They ducked into the kitchen door and turned down the hall to the washroom, took towels to their heads and damp skins. 

They quietly made up the stairs and into the bedroom, Remus letting the door swing almost shut but not quite. They changed clothes into something dry and warm and Remus sat on the bed. Sirius sat with him and ran his fingers through his hair for a moment while Remus rubbed his aching shoulder. 

Then Remus lay down on top of the covers, head resting heavy on the pillow. Sirius looked over and he met his eye, something quiet and thoughtless in the way they looked. Remus put his arm out to his side, bent at the elbow so his hand rested on his own pillow, as if he meant nothing by it. 

Sirius crawled up the bed and lay down beside him, knowing certainly it would be okay. He didn’t know why he knew, but he knew it would be, when he lay his head on Remus’ shoulder. He knew he would wrap his arm around his back and wiggle his body so they were comfortable together. 

He knew they’d share their warmth and the air they breathed, slow and easy. 

He felt Remus turn his face into him and his arm constrict around him so they clung to each other for a moment. 

Boys shouldn’t lay together like this, probably. But the thought was miles from his mind and he could never care less. Things were different with Remus. The rain began to truly pour on the house, pelt the windows so that the room darkened until it was dim with the storm. The muscles in every arm loosed and every taught line softened until they were just a pile together. 

He would have to leave in a few hours, before sundown, so Remus could transform and Hope could tend to him. He’d go back to the Potter house. He wouldn’t want to go but he wouldn’t show it. He’d say goodbye to Hope and wear the jacket she gave him when he left. He’d write to Remus in a day and ask if he was alright, just to bridge the distance. He’d write to James and tell him he was back home. 

It was all coming in just a few hours but he could hardly keep his eyes open. 

They fell asleep without another word. 


End file.
